


our hearts are too ruthless to break

by carefulren



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Buck wears domestic worried dad well, Fever, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Nightmares, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Sickfic, Whump, Whumpfic, let's just fuck up Eddie cuz why not, spoilers for 911 S3 Ep 15, the episode where ryan murphy was like, you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:54:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23782699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carefulren/pseuds/carefulren
Summary: Eddie winds up sick after the well despite insisting he's fine, and Buck steps up to the plate.
Relationships: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 199





	our hearts are too ruthless to break

It’s been three days since Eddie almost died, and the water inhalation, the cold rain, and the newly-formed nightmares interrupting his sleep are beginning to take a toll on his body despite receiving a clean bill of health from the hospital he had been transported to. 

He wakes on the fourth day gasping and choking after physically pulling himself from a nightmare where he was trapped underwater and couldn’t break through the mud that was pressing in toward him. He presses a shaking hand to his bare, heaving chest, small coughs wheezing past his lips, and it takes a solid four minutes until the rapid patter of his heartbeat slows to a steady rhythm. 

He taps his phone screen, frowning at the far-too-early time. He still has three hours until he needs to wake up, but the mere thought of going back to sleep to those dreams sends a chill down his spine. 

He slips out of bed instead, shuffling quietly to the living room, arms crossed as the cool air seemingly assaults his bare skin. He slumps down on the couch, pulling a blanket that’s folded on the back of the couch around his shoulders, and he snags the remote, muting the TV as it turns on. 

He flips through a few channels, finally stopping on an infomercial for a new vacuum since of all the infomercials playing at 3 a.m., the vacuum seems the most interesting, but he only lasts seven minutes until his eyelids grow too heavy to stay open. 

*****

Nodding off without his phone beside him was certainly not planned, and though he feels as if he’s only been asleep for minutes, it’s far too bright when he gives in to Christopher’s near-constant patting at his knee. 

“I’m up, bud,” he mutters, yawning wide and loud. “What time is it?” 

For a few seconds, Christoper is silent, and Eddie’s eyes slip shut once more until Christopher mutters “7:23.” 

“Shit!” He flies off the couch, head reeling at the sudden movement, and he swallows back a few coughs as he starts toward his room, Christopher following slowly behind. 

“You said a swear word. I’m gonna tell Buck.”

“I know,” Eddie says, frowning as he digs through his dresser for a clean shirt. “I’m sorry, but maybe we can keep this from Buck, huh?” He grabs a navy blue, long-sleeve shirt he doesn’t recognize and slips it over his head before he starts looking for pants. “Keep it our little secret?”

“Maybe,” Christopher says with a shrug, and Eddie can only hope that “maybe” means Christopher will forget by the time they make it out the door.

“Have you brushed your teeth?” He asks, whipping a quick gaze back toward Christopher. “Do you need help getting dressed?”

“We haven’t had breakfast,” Christopher reminds him, cocking his head slightly to the side, and Eddie sighs and turns away to cough a few times into his shoulder. 

“Breakfast on the run today? We can get donuts.” He snags a pair of jeans and starts pulling them on as he stumbles to the bathroom. 

“Donuts!”

Eddie pokes his head out of the bathroom, toothbrush hanging from his mouth. “Only if you hustle those muscles.” He nods toward Christoper’s room, and Christopher squeals through a laugh as he starts his way back to his own room.

Somehow, he and Christopher make it out the door six minutes later, and Eddie’s about to race toward the closest donut shop, only hesitating when Christopher reminds him of Buck. 

“You said you were driving him to work today.”

“I did,” Eddie sighs, briefly pinching the bridge of his nose to try and squeeze away this growing headache, but then his phone chimes off and, of course, it’s Buck asking where he is, so he blinks a few times, rubbing at his eyes, before he slips his truck into drive and starts toward Buck’s. 

*****

Despite making it in the typical ten minutes, he’s still fifteen minutes later than he usually is, and Buck’s frowning when he opens the passenger door. 

“Took you long... Is that my shirt?”

“What?” Eddie glances down, frown curling at his lips as Buck hops into the truck, dropping his bag at his feet. 

“That’s definitely my shirt.” 

“Hi, Buck!”

Buck whips around to chat with Christopher, smile wide enough to blind, but all Eddie can focus on, for the moment, is the shirt. He tugs at it, confusion playing across his face. 

“Anyway, Buck draws out, still smiling, as he turns back to the front. “You’re late.” 

“I overslept,” Eddie grumbles as he puts his truck back into drive. 

“First you steal my shirt, and now you’re stealing my excuses?” Buck asks, head tilting slightly to the left. 

“And he said a swear word in front of me today!”

“You did what?” Buck shouts, playing up the over-dramatics, at the same time Eddie yells “Christopher!” 

“He said s,h,i,t,” Christopher spells out, and Eddie grips the steering wheel a little harder when Buck gapes at him. 

“No one is getting donuts if you both don’t stop ganging up on me,” Eddie spits out, and the loud screams that follow has him cracking a smile as he navigates to the nearest donut shop.

*****

“Are you okay?” Buck asks, voice considerably softer, when Eddie pulls into a parking spot at the station, and Eddie sighs for the umpteenth time that morning alone, shoulders sagging slightly. 

He drags a tired gaze to meet Buck’s worried eyes. “Yeah,” he lies, cocking his head to the side, “why?”

“Oversleeping,” Buck starts, “cursing in front of Christopher, and, no offense, but your normally perfectly golden tan skin is looking a little washed out.” His lips curl into a half-smile when Eddie’s face falls flat. 

“And your normally chiseled jawline is about to meet my fist,” Eddie spits out, opening his door and slipping from his truck. 

Buck’s quick to follow, snagging his bag and hopping out of the truck quickly to catch up with Eddie, who’s already grabbed his bag from the backseat and walked away from the truck. 

“Seriously, Eddie!” Buck calls out, jogging toward Eddie until they’re falling into step. “You don’t look well.” 

“I’m fine--”

“--and you’ve been through a lot this week--”

Shaking his head, Eddie stops and spins toward Buck, ignoring the slight sway in his vision from the quick movement. “Buck,” he presses, tugging on Buck’s arm until Buck’s turning to face him, “I’m fine.”

Buck’s eyes narrow as if trying to physically read through the lines, and his face is still pinched in concern, but he eventually nods slowly. “If you’re sure?” 

“I’m sure.”

*****

While Eddie knew that he wasn’t actually as “fine” as he insisted he was, if his headache and occasional coughing was anything to go by, he didn’t expect his legs to give out in the locker room after returning from their third call. 

He falls onto the bench with a low thud, eyes blurring, face burning despite his muscles trembling. His head is throbbing, a hammer knocking repeatedly at his temples, and his lungs are tight with a need to cough, something he’s been swallowing back more and more as they day’s progressed. 

He’s not surprised when Buck walks in after him just seconds later, still calling out to Hen over his shoulder, but his words trickle off toward a softer, hesitant tone that’s laced with concern. 

“Eddie?”

Eddie can’t seem to get himself to sit upright. The fatigue coating his bones has him hunched forward, elbows braced against his knees and face dropped into his cupped hands. 

“Um, Eddie?” Buck repeats, padding quietly across the room until he’s standing over Eddie, frown painted across his lips. “What’s wrong? Did you get hurt on that last call?

Eddie shakes his head slowly, the small movement alone bringing forth more pain to his head, and he keeps his face tucked against his palms. 

Buck’s mind flicks through possible scenarios, pausing on one that has the blood draining from his face. 

“Is it Christopher?” 

“No, Eddie mutters. He desperately wants to curl up on the floor, press his hot cheek to the cold tile.

“Then, what’s wrong?” Buck asks, dropping to the bench beside Eddie. He reaches out toward Eddie, cupping his hand over the back of Eddie’s neck, but the second he feels the alarming heat, he jerks his hand back, slips off the bench, and drops to a crouch in front of Eddie. 

“Hey, Eddie,” he starts, voice quick, as he tugs on Eddie’s wrists lightly. “Can you look at me?”

Eddie’s slow to oblige, his muscles moving as if fighting against the same, thick, wet mud he was trapped in. He lifts his head, and Buck sucks in a sharp gasp and presses the back of his hand to his forehead. 

“Shit,” he mutters, standing upright, “you’re burning up.” He glances toward the door. “I’m getting Bobby,” and Eddie can’t find it in him to argue, not as Buck runs out of the room, and not even when Buck comes back with Bobby, Hen, and Chimney hot on his heels. 

He can only cough harshly over and over into the crook of his arm when the others crowd around him, with Buck dropping back onto the bench beside him and Bobby crouching in front of him. 

Bobby’s quick to smooth a palm over his forehead when his coughing finally tampers off, and he whistles low, concern coloring his eyes. 

“That’s a hell of a fever you’re sporting, Eddie.”

Nodding, Eddie tilts to the right until his head’s dropping against Buck’s shoulder, and Buck’s quick to wrap a steady arm around his waist. 

“I’m not surprised after the well,” Bobby adds. “You’ve gone through quite a bit this week.” 

“You probably inhaled a lot of water,” Hen starts, frowning, arms crossed. “We should make sure this doesn’t develop into pneumonia.” She looks to Bobby, and the two share a silent conversation before he steps aside to let Hen assess Eddie. She counts his pulse, gauges his fever by touch alone. 

“I think you should be okay with a week or so of rest.” 

That clicks in Eddie’s head-- the first thing since everyone walked in. He shoots up to his feet, swaying, hand coming to his forehead. “A week?” he spits out, leaning a little too heavily against Buck when Buck stands up beside him and places a steady hand to the small of his back. 

“That seems a bit excessive.”

“It’s really not,” Chimney says. “You should probably stay out longer, but we know how you are.”

“How I am?” Eddie parrots back, brows furrowed, and his frown deepens when Hen and Chimney both call him reckless with worried smiles. 

“You know,” Chimney adds, “that whole hero act that’s got you in this situation in the first place.” 

“I saved a kid,” Eddie fires back, chest suddenly burning as hot as his cheeks. 

“Yeah,” Buck nods, “but you cut the line--”

“--you would have done the same!” The shout has Eddie doubling over into a coughing fit, and Bobby calls everyone to order as Buck eases Eddie back down onto the bench. 

“That’s enough. Hen, go call in two support members who can come in for the next week.”

“Two?”

“Buck’s going to make sure this doesn’t turn into something worse,” Bobby says, eyes finding Buck’s, and Buck nods quickly, silent understanding.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Eddie mutters, and Buck leans more toward him, hand gentle at his back. 

“Don’t fight this, Eddie. We’re all just worried about you.”

It takes a few minutes, but Eddie finally concedes, knowing he’s facing a losing battle, and feeling utterly drained after his small outburst. He waits as Buck gets instructions from Hen and Chimney: what signs to look for, how much liquids, how often he should get a reading on the fever.

And, Eddie’s hesitant to hand over his truck keys when Buck insists he’s not well enough to drive, but then fever chills start to slip up his spine, and Buck drapes his jacket over his shoulders. He gives in then, reluctantly dropping the keys into Buck’s outstretched palm, and trying to ignore the excited smile that briefly pulls at Buck’s lips. 

He’s frustrated when he finds he can’t walk on his own to his truck, and Buck can feel the quiet tension and tries his best to pierce it with light comments that Eddie can’t focus on around the pounding in his head. The second he’s settled into the passenger seat, with Buck’s jacket tucked over him, he drops his head against the window and drifts off almost immediately. 

*****

He comes to when, in his dream, he loses his last breath against dark, thick water, jolting awake with a strangled shout that falls away to a coughing fit. He clutches at his neck, coughing over and over, but then a glass of water is being pressed into his other hand, and he sucks it down, ignoring the voice beside him telling him to go easy. 

The water helps. His coughing tampers off, and he blinks past tears pricking at his eyes to see that he’s in his bedroom, and it’s dark. 

“What the hell,” he rasps out, eyes dragging across his room until they fall on Buck, who’s perched on the edge of the bed, normally bright blue eyes clouded with concern. 

“Yeah,” Buck spits out, “what the hell-- how long have you been having nightmares?”

“I’m not,” Eddie tries, but Buck doesn’t back down. 

“You woke up screaming.”

Eddie hands Buck the glass of water and sinks back against his pillows, one arm draping over his eyes. “Since then,” he sighs.

“When?”

“You know when.”

Face falling, Buck sets the glass of water on the bedside table and drops one hand to Eddie’s thigh. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I shouldn’t be having nightmares,” Eddie mutters around a few coughs. “I saved the kid.”

“You also almost died too.”

The words hit him in a weird way, like a bucket of ice water being slowly poured over him. “Thanks for reminding me,” he says flatly, and Buck sighs, thumb tracing mindless circles on Eddie’s thigh. 

“You know what I mean. I think what happened to you warrants nightmares. You think I didn’t have my fair share of nightmares after my leg? After the tsunami? It’s normal to have them after a traumatic experience.” 

“What are you,” Eddie mutters, lifting his arm and arching one brow, “a psychologist now?”

“Oh thank God,” Buck draws out, getting to his feet, “I thought I was going to have to keep up the act for the entire week.”

Eddie cracks a smile, a few small laughs slipping past his lips, but then his groggy mind catches up to his headache, and he groans, massaging his temples. 

“Where’s my kid?”

“The living room,” Buck says, walking into Eddie’s bathroom to snag the medicine he bought earlier per Hen’s instructions. “Playing Mario Kart.” 

Frowning, Eddie rolls his head to the side to see Buck. “Did you pick him up from school?”

“Yep. I told him you’re busy being a hero and fighting off a really bad monster right now, so we will have to be extra quiet for a while so you can focus.” 

Eddie drags his gaze back to the ceiling, chest bursting with a warmth that’s different from the stifling heat of his fever. “Did you feed him?” he asks, smile creeping at his lips. 

“Yep.” 

“Something other than takeout pizza?”

“I cooked fettuccine,” Buck says, smiling, an air of pride surrounding him as he hands Eddie two pills and helps him sit back up. “And he told me I cook way better than you, which basically translates to ‘Buck, you are superior.’”

Eddie almost chokes on the water he sips at to swallow the medicine, and he coughs lightly around the glass, both brows arching. 

“Oh, is that so?”

Buck nods, taking the glass back from Eddie. “Yeah, sorry, man. I don’t make the rules.” He helps Eddie back against the pillows and pulls his blanket back to his chin when Eddie starts shivering. 

“You know I’ve got you, right?” he asks quietly, hand brushing against Eddie’s forehead, and Eddie smiles lazily, sleep pulling at him, beckoning to him. 

“I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hot take: I couldn't breathe during that episode, much like Eddie couldn't breathe through, like, a quarter of it. 
> 
> Title taken from "Sinners" by Lauren Aquilina. 
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated :)


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